It Had To Be You
by thedoveofwar
Summary: The Hexis pride themselves on their voyage of strength and do so in the name of truth. They are warriors, and guides in a world that needs order. But, order cannot be without chaos and - sometimes - not all things are as they seem. (Multichap and first time fic. Rating may change.)


Disclaimer: I own nothing of, and, or involving Warframe.

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A warm splatter of crimson blood - with the hatred that ran, pure and unfiltered, through a soldier's veins - painted the metal in a gruesome fashion. It poured like a horrifying torrent across the cold ground and burrowed itself into the seams of worn uniforms. Droplets spread by the thousands, hiding the monotonous colors of the warship in a warrior's masterpiece. Somewhere - in the murky depths of the many corridors and rooms - a piercing cry echoed at the sight.

His chest, and quite possibly his stomach, heaved for anything that would swiftly replace the horror that tightened its vice upon him with the image.

All around him - like a hive of aggravated, desperate insects - Grineer flooded past him. A tsunami of festered rage and cloned flesh that overpowered the vibrant blues and vivid yellows of Corpus engineers and Moas as they tore into the bodies like ravenous animals. Blood engulfed stairways in rivers and pale, cloth-covered limbs lay haphazard over once-pristine floors. A wave of nausea roiled through his frozen body. Such creatures were they - savages, almost - stuck in a vicious cycle of murderous intent and power, it seemed.

A cracked mask, maybe white at one point, flooded his vision and matched the broken, near feral look in the golden eyes behind it. If he could move - and why couldn't he _move_? - he would have reared back at the sight; the instinct to lash out and _elimate the threat_ flashed in his mind. Adrenaline warmed him some as it slithered into his blood but did nothing to ultimately free his stalled movement. A sliver of frantic distress built in his chest. A yellow, crazed stare held his as the edge of the clear pane rattled and cracked. He watched, helpless and struck with fear.

Then, a light blinded him.

It had blinded the rest of the brutes - slim and solidly built in various states of armor - as well, for when his vision returned they stood as still as he felt. Dumbfounded, their unseeing eyes roamed and arms and hands, some mechanical and others gloved, hesitantly reached out for one another. Weapons that had fired and showered light in the near-darkness of the ship now lay useless and cradled against armor or material.

And a figure, covered from head to heel in a stark white armor - untainted by the crimson liquid of the living or the glistening oil of the machines - quickly replaced the savage before him. The sharp tip of a blade, clean and precise in its build, slid in a practiced movement in and out of the mutilated flesh and mechanical enhancement, and the red fluid glistened on the sword when it pulled back. The body landed limp on the ground with a muted splash as the lake beneath it spread swiftly. The person - a brother? - calmly shoved it aside without a care. He couldn't swallow at the sight but the constricted passage of his throat would not have allowed him regardless.

The panel fell, and his vision swam. His body slumped gracelessly to the floor and the darkness seeped in the edges of his mind.

When a helmet lowered to meet his, he succumbed to the abyss and let himself fade against the warm liquid and the cold ground.

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He awoke later with sweat dewed heavily on his body - free and powerful and solid against cotton sheets and chilled air - and the wisps of a hesitant curiosity lingered like the images of the dream around his mind. He bit back a confused noise and lay there, rattled and trembling, in the dark room as minutes, maybe hours ticked by in an ominous silence.

When a knock sounded on his door, he rose.

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A/N: Review and let me know if you liked it, or if you spotted an issue. Any concerns and/or questions are also welcome. Should be updated weekly. 3


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